


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by FagurFiskur



Series: 30 day cheesy tropes challenge [26]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Basically gen, Hypothermia, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1694426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur/pseuds/FagurFiskur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He parts his lips, not without difficulty. They're frozen shut and he feels the skin break as he forces them open. "Dean."</p><p>It's the barest breath of a whisper, but in the silence that blankets them it echoes as if he'd shouted at the top of his lungs. Dean stirs against him but doesn't reply. </p><p>He licks his lips. Tries again, "Dean."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> 30 day cheesy trope challenge: #7 - Stuck someplace together in winter
> 
> [The challenge](http://ghiraher.tumblr.com/post/37135733342/30-day-cheesy-tropes-challenge)
> 
> And the award for most derivative and yet inappropriate title goes to...
> 
> Can you guys tell I'm kind of rushing through these now? I just really want to be done before June, since I'm participating in junowrimo

He can't tell if his eyes are closed. He blinks (when did blinking become so difficult?) but it's the same vast, empty darkness that greets him either way. He remembers when he first turned human, how limited his senses felt. Limited doesn't begin to describe what he feels now; blind and numb.

Well. Not quite numb. He's long since lost any feeling in his extremities but he can still faintly feel Dean's chest rise and fall against his own, soft and warm and sticky wet. He's glad for his blindness then. He remembers seeing Dean's blood bloom across the snow, staining it pink. It's enough that he knows Dean's life his draining from him, he doesn't need to see it happen as well.

He parts his lips, not without difficulty. They're frozen shut and he feels the skin break as he forces them open. "Dean."

It's the barest breath of a whisper, but in the silence that blankets them it echoes as if he'd shouted at the top of his lungs. Dean stirs against him but doesn't reply.

He licks his lips. Tries again, "Dean."

Nothing. He wants to move his hand from where it rests on Dean's waist, wants to grab his shoulder and shake him, try and force some response from him, but he can't even get his own body to respond.

"Dean," he breathes desperately. His lips are becoming difficult to move again.

Is Dean still breathing? He can't tell. Can't keep his eyes open... can't...

"Dean!"

That wasn't him. Who was it?

"Cas!"

Who...

\---

He wakes up and it's like he just turned human all over again. Everything is so bright and yet so unclear, sounds rushing past his ears in a jumbled mess, his entire body aching.

"Cas?"

Something moves into his line of vision - someone. He blinks a few times, and finally his eyes adjusts.

"Sam," he croaks.

He can't quite make out what Sam is saying - only that he is saying something, because his lips are definitely moving. His voice blends with other voices and a high pitched, unpleasantly sharp noise.

"-in a hospital," Sam is saying, and he somehow finds the strength to focus entirely on his voice, shutting the other noises out. "You cut it close there, buddy. They lost your pulse for a minute."

He doesn't care about his pulse, how close _he_ cut it. He wasn't the one slowly bleeding out in the snow. "Dean?"

"He's fine," Sam reassures him. "Still asleep, but the doctor says he'll be awake in a few hours."

It doesn't make sense. There was so much blood. Much more, it seemed, than one person should be able to lose.

His confusion must show in his face, because Sam says, "He was pretty cut up, but his wounds were all shallow. Looked bad but believe me, the hypothermia was a lot worse."

Were it anyone else, just words wouldn't be enough. But he trusts Sam. Trusts that he cares enough about him and about Dean not to lie.

"Cas?" Sam reaches out and squeezes his shoulder carefully. "Go back to sleep, okay? I'll be here when you wake up. We both will."

Relief blooms in his chest. He closes his eyes.


End file.
